


A Hero's Mantle

by Sumbril



Series: Valenslimes Day 2020 [8]
Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: El needs every hug, El’s Coat, Erik helps, Flutie Tag: Everybody loves a sharp-dressed man but especially Erik, Hero | Luminary is Named Eleven | El, M/M, Major Act 3 Spoilers, Mild Identity Crisis? Angst With a Happy Ending, Others (Mentioned) - Freeform, Rated M for Safety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22688506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumbril/pseuds/Sumbril
Summary: The title of Luminary is not all it’s cracked up to be. Erik watches Eleven struggle beneath the weight of it, and lends him his strength when needed.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Series: Valenslimes Day 2020 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631575
Comments: 9
Kudos: 56





	A Hero's Mantle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thechavanator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechavanator/gifts).



> This ficlet was written for the DQXI Discord, Soldiers of Smile Valenslime Exchange for my lovely fellow Eleven fan, Chel. 
> 
> The theme was supposed to be ‘found family’ but I think it only loosely gets there in the end. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Erik noticed the change sometime after Arboria.

Of course Eleven was different: stronger and more confident, taking charge where he would have let someone with a louder opinion drown out his voice before. Now, more often than not, it was the deciding factor. He'd become a leader somewhere between Arboria and Yggdrasil, like he'd finally come to understand exactly what his role was, and how to go about fulfilling it.

And then there were other times that he caught sight of the old Eleven- the one he knew from the mad dash through Heliodor. Warm and relaxed around the campfire with a smile for everyone- the one he recognized as his friend.

Then he was gone, replaced by someone cool and seemingly untouchable by morning.

It took him awhile to put it together, but Eleven the Luminary and Eleven the Person had become two separate personas.

Eleven the Luminary had a killer poker face that rarely faltered. He was particularly good at staring someone down under the pretense of paying attention while silently waiting for the other party to shut up- usually whenever someone went on too long about destiny or the Age of Heroes. He could command even Hendrik with believable authority in public.

Eleven the Person jumped into freezing lakes on a whim, teared up over dead animals, and laughed at stupid jokes told around the campfire. He loved the unremarkable winter heath bushes in the Snaerfelt just because he thought it was beautiful that they bloomed in cold temperatures. He was friendly, eyes warm with none of the weighted distance held by his other persona.

Erik spent weeks trying to suss out when the changes happened and why. In public and at rest seemed the most obvious indicator, but then he'd notice when they splurged on dining out in Gallopolis, Eleven was as friendly as ever. Then elsewhere, alone in their shared inn room, he remained distant and tiredly dismissive until he bedded down for the evening and fell asleep.

Eventually, the dividing factor revealed itself to be far more simple than he'd thought:

It was the coat.

Any time it was on, Eleven was decisive, fearless, and ready to do whatever it took to make it to the next step of their journey.

Any time it was off, he was as relaxed and easy-going as they came. Genuine and honest- the type of guy anyone could talk to about anything.

And it wasn't just Eleven, either. After weeks spent watching the ebb and flow of their camping routine, Erik noticed the shift spread to the rest of them, too. He knew the others hadn't figured it out, but it was as though they still understood it on an unconscious level. They relaxed and let loose, cracked jokes and squabbled, but without fail every morning, everything was suddenly packed and ready to go the moment Eleven finished buckling his coat and strapping his sword to his back. They all stood straighter, game faces on.

Because armed and fully dressed, he was the Luminary again.

It was all the difference of Hendrik and Sylvando. Night and day. Coat on, coat off- as simple as that.

He finally struck up the nerve to ask him about it one night.

"The Luminary is a hero," Eleven the Person confessed, picking at his pant leg. "A legendary figure, not..." He gestured down himself then off in a vague direction. "It's difficult to live up to."

Erik crossed his arms over his knees and pillowed his head, chin still tipped in El's direction.

"It's a lot of pressure," he conceded, and watched Eleven nod.

"You know, I.." El's voice faltered, then faded, brows creasing. Shadows danced in his eyes. "When we watched Erdwin die, there was a second that I was relieved." He bit his lip, gaze downcast. "I didn't want to become a star."

Erik jolted upright, understanding cutting quick like a knife to the heart. How many times had they heard variations of that stupid story since the Lantern fell?

"You won't," Erik said immediately, swallowing past a lump forming in his throat. "Erdwin was only mortal in the end, wasn't he?"

Eleven dipped his chin in what might have been agreement but for the down-turned corner of his mouth that remained unconvinced.

"Hey," he clapped a hand on the guy's shoulder. "If your feet ever start to leave the ground, I'll pull you back down to Erdrea myself, got it?"

That earned him a smile. Eleven lifted his head and brushed hair out of his eyes. They glowed bright and luminous in the firelight.

Warm fingers touched the back of his hand. "Thank you, Erik."

Erik decided that if this was the way Eleven needed to play it in order to balance what the world expected of him against who he really was, then he guessed it was fine. The guy seemed all right. One day, when the world no longer needed a hero, he'd hang up his coat and return to just being himself.

That was, until the demands of his role threatened to break him instead.

More specifically, Drustan.

'Conquer thine own fear', the hero of legend had said.

Going into it, Erik was sure they'd be fine, because Eleven the Luminary was always cool under pressure. He always seemed to know where to go, what to do, and how to tackle any given problem. With a guy like that leading the charge, how could they lose?

But as he watched, trial by trial, Eleven the Luminary began to splinter apart.

Aside from a cryptic engraving written into the wall that Eleven spent some time frowning at, the first trial seemed fine. The bruise-colored sky garnered a couple of anxious looks, which was understandable. Didn't see that every day.

But then the shadowed form of their first real opponent emerged, and Erik saw the color drain from Eleven's face, caught his lips move in the barest of whispers to form two simple words: _he knows_.

There wasn't any time to ask, but he noticed that he'd never seen Eleven fight so hard or shake so badly, after. And that was just the first one. Their previously unwavering leader lost focus and unraveled further with every new shift in scenery.

Paranoia ruled Eleven in the second trial. He wouldn't let Veronica leave his sight for even a second or else he'd start to work himself into a panic. He also just wouldn't stop throwing looks of the deepest loathing toward the sky above, like it had personally offended him. Again, with the flash of improbable recognition when their newest challenger appeared- like the towering beast from the abyss really was something pulled directly from the guy's nightmares. Again, he fought like a man possessed, something like vengeance in the warring storm of his blades.

Later, traded glances, pinched brows, and shaken heads around the campfire revealed a general consensus: none of them had any idea what was going on with him. But as the Luminary's oldest companion, it was Erik's job to try to find out.

He eased himself across from Eleven.

"Hey," he said, tone low to afford them the illusion of privacy. The others were all ostensibly occupied in the background, but their eyes kept flickering to Eleven's back. "Are you going to be okay?"

Drawn brows and a sharp nod confirmed his suspicions. The Luminary's fingers curled into themselves on his knees over the draping fabric of his coat.

Erik heaved an internal sigh.

"Those shadows," he said, waving a hand. "I'm starting to think none of this is really real. Like it's just this weird dimension the Watchers created, but isn't actually happening."

"It isn't," El said with more bite than he expected. "It never did."

Erik blinked. "Uh, okay. Well there you go, then. Nothing to worry about."

The feeble attempt at reassurance earned him a pensive look. Eleven's jaw worked for a moment while Erik held his breath.

"..Did you recognize that place?"

Erik's mind cast back to golden halls and golden floors. "..No?" he ventured. "Should I have?"

Something laxed in Eleven's expression, tone sobering. "No, you shouldn't."

He stood then, and Erik's heart dropped.

"Hey," he tried finally, as the guy made to brush past him. "You know we're all here for you. If there's anything you need.."

He chanced a glance up to catch Eleven's head bowed, expression softening. "..I'll let you know."

Then he was gone, walking stiffly back toward the tent. Erik offered the rest of the group a shrug.

So much for that.

The Trial of the Luminary lived up to its name in that it successfully threw out any and all composure Eleven had left. Whatever Drustan had set out to test in its construction, he'd succeeded.

It hit him when Eleven snapped and snarled in a manner at complete odds with either of his personas that the heavy, wretched emotions straining the guy's face were real. That Eleven the Luminary was a shield, but now that he was breaking, Eleven the Person was bleeding through the mask and beginning to shatter from within. Terror ruled him on both fronts, and none of them knew what to do or how to help except to support him wherever they could.

He was also _pissed_ , fighting the latest in Drustan's line of challengers with a ferocity that bordered on savagery. He didn't just want these nightmares dead, he wanted them _purged from existence._

But when finally they fought Calasmos, Erik understood why the trials had been necessary: the Dark One was on a whole different level. Though the fight was hard, the Luminary was unflinching, and so the rest of them never wavered. They won the day, peace restored to Erdrea at last.

That was the day the Luminary fell.

The two sides holding him together splintered apart, and the ever-present glow in his eyes shattered like glass in the dark; sharp edges glinting in scattered light and running in streams down his face. It all came at once, overflowing the way a dam might burst.

Eleven cried about everything from Cobblestone's initial destruction and the bodies littering the Kingsbarrow, to guilt for not being strong enough for something Erik couldn't discern through the increasingly hysterical pitch of the guy's voice. Something about 'time' and what he felt were explanations for just about everything weird that had ever happened if only he could make sense of any of it.

Instead, Erik simply held him, quietly reminded him of the flowers that bloomed in winter, then segued into other, half-remembered nonsense about life and rebirth until he was deliberately messing with the facts just to make Eleven laugh again.

"It's over," he told him once his tears had petered out to the occasional hiccup. Erik held him by the shoulders and stared into swollen, reddened eyes the Luminary wouldn't have been caught dead with. "You don't need to wear this anymore."

Eleven inhaled though unsteady breaths and dragged his hands over his eyes.

"You're right," he said, words soft but strained. "And I don't think I want to."

Clumsy fingers began to work at the straps, then after a few moments spent watching the feeble effort, Erik helped. In the end, Eleven sat while Erik relieved him of his coat, complying with every necessary shift needed to remove it until it was off and tossed somewhere on the floor.

Eleven stared at the discarded heap of fabric for several moments, then heaved a heavy sigh and turned a clear gaze back onto Erik.

"I didn't become a star," he said at last, with the twitching beginnings of a smile.

Erik grinned back and reached out to unstick a strand of hair from his damp face. "Nope. You're 100% human."

Eleven kissed him in the suspended moment that followed, like something else had changed, too. After watching him for so long, it almost felt like something inevitable, another little bit of destiny all on its own. And well, this was one he would be happy to see through.

Eleven drew back just enough to meet his eyes, gaze searching. "You said if there was anything I needed..."

Erik swallowed, skin prickling. "Yeah."

"Bind me to Erdrea," he said, leaning in to form the words against his lips in the shape of a request. "Please."

And that was all it took.

Erik shifted forward just as Eleven fell back. He stripped him down to the bed and between kisses that only grew more heated by the second, joined them together in a way that might have been sacrilegious to the Arborians.

With every grunt of effort, the lingering grief and guilt in Eleven's eyes ebbed away, instead replaced by mounting desire. It felt like eternity, the way the heat stretched steady between them, then broke slow under scattered pleas and heaving breaths. 

In the softer, smiling warmth that followed, Eleven looked happier and more present than he had in months. They had all the time in the world now, and Erik was going to use every second of it to put every last human piece of the hero of legend back together again.

And one day, he was sure, he'd get him to tell him everything.

**Author's Note:**

> This was really just a culmination of some Act 2+3 headcanons, my love for El’s default outfit, and good old-fashioned angst. I’m not really sorry.


End file.
